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Name: Eleanor Lupin/Nora
House: Hufflepuff
Chosen Character: Bellatrix Black/Lestrange
Ratings/Warnings: 1st-2nd, none
Word Count: 493
A/N: Great big thank you to Soraya (babewithbrains) for being my beta!!! Not sure how much better this would be if I didn't have to work "pink" and "bluebells" into it somehow.

I don’t miss her.

She’s done it. She’s gone, left it all just for him. I can’t talk to her again; I can’t even call her my sister. Andromeda. Andromeda. I must get used to that now, not Andy.

***********

I was curled in an armchair in a handsome bedroom, completely lost in thought. My eyes were glassed over as I stared out the window, the moon burning a shadow into my eyes that I could see whenever I blinked.

A knock on my bedroom door brought me back to earth. I moved in a vague manner towards the door, opening it.

“Bella - can I talk to you about something?”

I nodded and allowed the younger, lighter version of myself to step through.

Andy curled nervously in another armchair, and I took a seat in front of her. “I wanted to ask you about Rodolphus.”

“What about him?” I said abruptly, cursing myself for sounding as defensive as I did.

“I just wondered if - how you feel about him.”

“Well, I’m marrying him, Andy, aren’t I?”

“That’s not what I mean,” she said. “I mean, do you love him?”

“Didn’t I just say that? Of course!”

“I just wondered because you don’t look at him the same way as you looked at - at that other boy,” Andy stammered.

Isaiah. “ I - I’m very fond of Rodolphus,” I said, choosing to leave the point there. I didn’t want to be interrogated; I didn’t… I didn’t …

Andy raised her eyebrows. “Ooh, you’re fond of him! What passion!”

“Just shush.”

“You don’t have to marry him, Bella.”

A heavy silence hung in the air. Andy looked as though she’d have liked nothing more than to take back her words.

“Yes, I do. For the family. He’s a good man. Mother and Father absolutely adore him; what more could I ask for?”

We sat, wordless.

“I think it’s brave. Doing that for the family, giving that much up,” Andy said quietly.

“I think it makes me a coward.”

“Bella, you’re the bravest person I know. Really.”

***********

It wasn’t true. I wasn’t brave, but her words helped me do it.

I don’t miss her.

The two of us could talk about everything, never walking on eggshells like with Mother or our other friends. I knew everything about her, from her favourite flowers (bluebells and soft pink peonies, even now) to the fact that she sometimes wished she weren’t in Slytherin, to the fact that she absolutely hates the concept of Muggle hunting. I even talked to her about joining the Death Eaters. Now … it’s like she’s died.

My best friend.

But I don’t miss her.

I’ll never forget the look on her face when she saw the Dark Mark shining on my wrist.

Name: Sorayerssss House: RavenclawChosen Character: James Potter SnrRatings/Warnings: 1st-2nd; none. Word Count: 500 wordsA/N: This was a nightmare to write. Thank you so much, Gina/Gmariam, for making this drabble a much better one, and for helping me with timelines and so on.

Oh, and this is set in November 1979, just so you know. I tried including it in the drabble but it sounded kind of clunky.

It is early evening; the soft pink blush of the horizon begins to seep into the clouds, and it is the first time James and Lily have been together in their house in weeks, ever since their last Order mission went horribly wrong, and James had been in St. Mungo’s for more than a fortnight as a result. The Death Eaters’ hunt for Order members is still going on, and it only gives him more incentive to do it. To ask Lily the question.

“Lily, I... I have something to...” he stutters, but he eventually trails off, the words dying on his lips. For want of something else to do, he takes out his wand and levitates their plates and glasses into the sink, where they begin to wash themselves. The bluebells he had picked for her from the garden are still lying on the table.

Not meeting her eyes, he expects Lily to look amused, tease him, and James is surprised when she appears equally anxious and takes hold of his hand. He relaxes a little; their knees touch under the table.

He wants to do this right. Really, he would have liked to do it months ago; he had bought the ring all the way back in April, in Hogsmeade, surreptitiously sneaking out of Honeydukes while she was buying Easter eggs.

But things had not gone to plan. James had put it off, deeming each time and place unsuitable for six whole months, and then... he winces just thinking about how he had been so badly injured by Death Eaters that — according to Lily —he could have died. He remembers her stricken face, her shining, tear-streaked cheeks, and he can’t bear the thought of her not knowing how he feels, and not being given the opportunity to —

No. He can’t think like that. He will do it.

However, when he opens his mouth to speak, she blurts out, “James... I have to... there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Wh-what’s wrong?” he asks, frowning at the look on her face. A sudden fear invades his mind, and he can’t help but voice it. “Please don't say that you’re—”

Sighing, Lily says, “No, James. Don't be stupid. Look, I—” Her lips move, but no sounds come out, and he takes advantage of the silence to interrupt her.

“Lily... will you marry me?”

Immediately after the words leave his mouth, he curses himself. He wishes he had done things properly, in a more romantic setting, or at least got down on one knee.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. “That was...”

He can’t complete his sentence, because Lily leans across the table and kisses him.

“Of course I will,” she says, their foreheads still touching, and James smiles, both in relief and in delight. “There’s something you should know, though,” Lily adds, and she bites her lip, that strange expression still on her face.

“What is it?” James asks, his smile fading, running a finger down her cheek.

Name: AidaHouse: Puff!Character Used: Albus DumbledoreRatings/Warnings: 3rd-5th, mentions of slashLyric used: A - It doesn't matter if we never meet again/What we have said will always remainWord Count: 448A/N:

Albus Dumbledore had never expected to meet Gellert Grindelwald again. Somehow he had just never expected Gellert to reappear in his life. Sometimes it felt like that summer was just a dream... or a nightmare. He can never forget, but often it feels so unreal. Meeting someone like Gellert, someone so intense, so wild, so ambitious, who answered all his questions, even the ones he didn’t know he had... it was utterly unreal. Considering the peace and serenity that Gellert had brought him at first, and then the chaos and destruction that Gellert left in his wake... some days, he expects to wake up again and discover that it’s still August 1899, and Ariana and Aberforth are still living with him in Godric’s Hollow.

But it was all too real. Albus could never forget the things Gellert told him... or the things he promised Gellert. They had envisioned a world under their command. They would be Masters of Death. Albus had hoped for a love that would last for all time, that when Gellert said that he would never leave, he meant it.

Albus should have known better. Gellert had left him, in the end. Worse, Gellert was never the type to simply fade into the ether, get an ordinary job, get married, have some children and live in comfort. He had gotten married, even had children, but Gellert would never be ordinary. His wife was a scion of one of the oldest pure-blood families on the continent, and was considered one of the most beautiful women in her generation. He had worked his way up through the government until he stood at its very peak and proclaimed himself its leader. His oldest son was now a feared commander of his army. His second son was pioneering an airborne unit of witches and wizards on brooms, carpets, and flying horses and Thestrals.

All of this flashes through his mind, as he gazes into Gellert’s eyes. They’re still a brilliant shade of blue... but in this light they look more grey-green. Gellert’s blonde hair has faded to white, just as his own auburn hair has become grey. His lips have thinned with age, but are currently quirked in a smile. “It’s been a long time, Albus,” Gellert says. His voice is the same. It burns him.

He can’t speak. He doesn’t think he could force words from his mouth if he tried, so he just draws his wand.

“So it comes to this old friend,” Gellert says with a sigh. He draws his wand as well. “Too bad, because this is a battle you won’t win.”

Bellatrix shivered against the constant chill of Azkaban. With each passing moment, she felt her grip on reality slip. She knew that was all an affect of the absence of any joy, hope, peace, or love.

Another dementor came gliding past, and Bellatrix felt herself sink into another horrible memory relapse...

She was fifteen again, and home for her summer holidays. Popping a carefully blown sphere of Droobles, she sighed in frustration at the summer essay that she was trying to finish as quickly as possible. Everything seemed ordinary; Bellatrix was entirely unprepared for the fight that would break out a moment later and rattle her bedroom floor.

Andromeda shoved the door open, exasperated. “Bella,” she said abruptly. “I need you to listen to me. Are you listening? I need to leave now. I’m just not able to be me here. Does that make any sense?” She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Then, she reached out to hug Bella. “Just please remember that I’ll always love you.”

Bellatrix pushed away from her sister in disgust. “Or so you say!” she spat out. “You say you love me, and yet you are abandoning me! I know the truth, and so do you. So why don’t you just say it? You hate us. All of us!”

“No, Bella, that isn’t true!” Andromeda insisted, but Bellatrix just ran out of the room, screeching at her sister.

“Save it! I don’t care!” she insisted.

But now, many years later, Bellatrix knew how wrong she was; she did care, and regretted everything she said that day. Everything she said that day and much, much more.

After the memory ended, Bellatrix noticed something with a shock; she blamed other people for her ending up where she was. “It’s my fault,” she murmured to herself, trying to regain composure. “Everything is my fault.”

Kindly disregard old posts by me. I was an irritating kid who didn't understand grammar.

Name: BobHouse: SlytherinCharacter Used: Neville LongbottomRatings/Warnings: 1st-2nd/noneLyric used:
'It doesn't matter if we never meet again,
What we have said will always remain.'Word Count: 499A/N:

Luna’s arrest would haunt Neville for some time even though he knew he could not have prevented it. Luna had not attempted to fight the guards. Instead of arguing or crying, she had simply looked at Neville and Ginny and said calmly, “Don’t worry. You can carry on without me. Just don’t forget our plans. You’ll see me again.”

In his darkest moments Neville wondered if they really would. When they spoke about it, he and Ginny reasoned that if, as they suspected, the arrest was supposed to send a message either to them or Luna’s father, then it was in their interests to keep her alive. In private, however, Neville doubted this reasoning. The things they had witnessed from the Carrows had left him sure that there were no limits to the cruelty of Voldemort’s regime.

Neville made sure he didn’t forget Luna’s last words to them, and from January Dumbledore’s Army redoubled their efforts to be as disruptive to Snape’s regime as possible. Some still wondered whether there was any point in what they were doing, given how little impact it had on the war outside, but Neville was determined that if there was even the slightest hope of making a difference they would continue.

Even if that difference is just preventing more bruises from forming on some poor kid’s body, Neville thought to himself late one night as he unchained a second-year Ravenclaw from the walls of the dungeons. The boy opened his mouth to speak but Neville put his finger to his lips. They could not risk being caught.

The next part was going to be the most difficult. Neville was on his own – the fewer people running around the corridors the better – and while he found it easy enough to sneak around the Castle, the boy was less experienced and would slow them down.

They began the route to the Ravenclaw Tower cautiously, Neville feeling a pang that it was him and not Luna performing this particular rescue. After a few minutes it was clear that the boy was stealthier than Neville had expected and they began to jog through the corridors, being careful to keep their footsteps light on the stone floors. They began to make good progress and were only one flight of stairs away from the tower when they turned a corner and came face to face with Professor McGonagall.

For a moment, nobody moved. Her eyes rested on the pair of them and she frowned but then she turned her head away from them and continued walking down the corridor as if she had not seen them at all.

Neville’s heart was beating a mile a minute as they made the last few steps to the Ravenclaw Tower. He wasn’t sure what he had expected from the Professor but he got the feeling she was like him, like Luna had been - trying to make even the smallest difference in a world that seemed to be growing darker each day.

What is worse: destroying the life of a man you love or that of one you hate?

What is worse: intending to destroy someone’s life but never acting on it, or accidentally doing so, not even realising what you’ve done?

Pansy doesn’t know. She doesn’t ask herself those questions – they’d be irrelevant anyway. All she knows is that she’ll have to do something. She must make him feel just an ounce of the pain and humiliation that his rejection has caused her; otherwise, she won’t be able to stand it anymore.

The sole thought that makes her go on with her life – the only thing that makes her force herself to eat, try to sleep, and then drag herself to work the next day – is the conviction that, one day, Draco will understand what he did to her. Not just know. Understand.

To be able to move on from the hurt, she has to convinve herself that the day will come when he will be begging for anything that resembles the perfect life he has now. So that’s what she does. She can’t seem to find the energy to scheme, but she tells herself that, whenever an opportunity presents itself, she will be ready.

Time passes.

She spends it in her dingy flat, at work and sometimes in clubs. People come and go. They pass her by so quickly, as if they’re all running and she’s standing still. Occasionally, she gets drunk. Sometimes, she laughs. Sometimes, she can’t even remember how things used to be. Often, she feels like she could leave the past behind.

Then, one day, she meets him by chance.

“Pansy?” he says, and she turns around. The streets are crowded. He almost didn’t notice her.

They exchange a few words, but then he has to go. It’s not until he’s disappeared around the corner that she allows herself to buckle. Her heart is beating so hard, and she wonders if she’ll ever be able to breathe normally again, because she now knows how well she remembers… It’s been years, and she still remembers everything about him. Nothing about him is a surprise, because, apparently, she stills knows him.

What could have been laid to rest isn’t.

She finds out where he lives nowadays, and she starts following him. He’s different. His hair is less neat, his clothing less sprauncy, but the spring in his step – which he lost at some point during their sixth year at Hogwarts – is back. And Pansy understands why when she sees Astoria; as thin as she is, it’s evident that her slightly bigger belly isn’t because she’s been eating more…

Name: Ellie/iMusic17House: hisssssssss . . .(Slytherin)Character Used: Neville LongbottomRatings/Warnings: 3rd-Lyric used: 'It doesn't matter if we never meet again/What we have said will always remain.'Word Count: 500A/N: This isn't very good . . . I apologize in advance.

Neville had watched her slowly fade into the night, blond hair still flouncing, though her step had lost its spring. Even as she left, he couldn’t help but think of her as he always had; the moon. Mysterious, always coming and going of its own accord.

I finally know what I’m looking for. But . . . it’s not in something that can be found in a person. I’m sorry.

He still remembered that night perfectly. The moon had disappeared, leaving the sky dark and empty. Hollow.

He’d trusted her; he’d trusted that she wouldn’t disappear, leaving him even more broken than before. There had been so many walls he’d had, so many defences, but the light of her just floated through, unaffected.
Please . . . don’t. I promise, it’ll be fine. I love you.

She’d said it’d been for the best. That they weren’t right.

They had been perfect. But he should have known he couldn’t have the moon.

I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!

Then came the fury. The pure, undiluted rage after she had left. The wall taking the place of her, an outlet for the flood that came after the moon had disappeared. In the dark of night, surrounded by his demons. There was no moon to be the light. It was just him.

He was fine in the light, but night was when he remembered. He remembered her, the pain, the anger. He was alone with his demons. With her.

Are you there? Are you okay?

It wasn’t her. It was never her.

What the hell? Neville?

She was frantic. She’d always worried, he remembered that. But why was she here?

It’ll be okay.

It wouldn’t. The world was a black pit of endless despair. Voldemort may have been dead, but it wasn’t any better. People still died, people still left.

What happened? You can tell me.

Her voice was soft, comforting. Almost like . . . no. It wasn’t her. Her voice was more airy; this was a plea. She was scared. She was scared for him.

I’m fine.

He was anything but fine, but he couldn’t hurt her. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

No, you’re not.

Time had gone by; whether it was days or years he would never sure. Slowly, the pain started to recede. And Neville knew why.

She had come like the sun after rain. No, like a flower blooming after a frost. The only small beauty that remained in the cold and dullness. And slowly, the light and other flowers returned. All because of the one that bloomed.

She had saved him, when he couldn’t even save himself. She was perfect, and she was his.

But he never forgot, for the moon was always there to remind him. Because, even though they’d met again, many times, they were both different. She’d found what she was looking for, and so had he. But the words they’d said were still there, a gap as wide as the moon.

The even greater divide was the words unsaid.

*Ellie*

my pageBeautiful avvie by Nadia (magestic_ginny), and banner by TM_Wandstick.

No matter what anyone tells you, words and ideas can change the world.
(The Dead Poets Society)

It is the truth. I married a good, pureblood man; I joined the Death Eaters and I brought pride to my family. I am the eldest: the perfect daughter. I enjoy my comfortable lifestyle with Rodolphus, and I could not be more proud of serving the Dark Lord.

Andromeda, on the other hand … well.

I could go on for hours about what she has done, but there is one thing that covers it all: the fact that she is going to go marry a Mudblood, and I am probably never going to see her again.

I was at my parents’ house the other day, for a cup of tea with them and my youngest sister, and I was promptly told that Andromeda had run off and eloped with a Mudblood, and that she had been blown off the family tree. That I was not to speak to her.

Good afternoon to you too, I felt like saying.

So that is why, when I’m alone in the house and Andromeda comes barreling in at top speed, I just about have a coronary.

“What are you doing here?” I shout, startled and baffled simultaneously. I curse silently; I had forgotten she was still able to get in here.

“Bella - I’m so sorry. Really.”

I do not answer her. I should not speak to her, so I will not.

“Can you talk to Mother and Father? See if you can talk them round?”

“What?” I splutter indignantly, abandoning my resolve. “Why would I ever do that?”

“Look, Bella, you’re my only chance!”

There is one thing I need to know, the one thing I can think of to say. "Why him?"

"It wasn’t just to rebel, in case that’s what you’re thinking. I picked Ted to marry because he's perfect for me in every way, and I don’t care what his blood status is. Please help me!” She pauses, looking absolutely desperate now. It almost makes me feel bad.

Name: Free_Elf/BecHouse: HufflepuffCharacter Used: Luna LovegoodRatings/Warnings: 3rd-5th, a few mentions of violence and goriness and deathLyric used: It doesn't matter if we never meet again, / What we have said will always remain.Word Count: 482A/N: This is very much not the direction I thought this would take when I first looked at the lyrics, but that's what you get when I'm told "for inspiration only"

It shouldn’t hurt this much. She had been forewarned: “An explosion”, “Erumpent Horn”, “Death Eaters”, “nothing left”. Harry, Hermione, Ron and her dad had all explained, but their tales could never properly prepare her for this moment. Looking at her crumbling home, it felt like something had shattered within her, and it hurt.

It hurt more than the sting of a cheek cut open as Luna walked up to the cracked front step. It hurt more than the twisting cramp of a shrunken, frozen stomach as Luna pushed aside a plank that had once been part of a brightly painted door. It hurt more than the crack of a wrist bone snapped as Luna dug carefully through piles of shattered china and glass. It hurt more than a hundred Cruciatus Curses as Luna found the dirty, tattered shreds of a photograph album’s cover.

Its pages, every last one, were gone, ripped from the binding to leave only traces of glue and thread. The precious photographs; gone.

To Luna, it was as though someone else had died. She had lost her mother again, just like she’d lost Colin, lost Mandy, lost Orla. All of them gone so easily. Paper and skin, cloth and flesh; shredded and torn and mangled beyond repair. For so long, Luna had believed, had known, that those who had died were not lost forever, but now she wondered. So much, so many, had been destroyed. How could everything be waiting, just out of reach for now? Perhaps they were gone, never to be met again.

For a moment, the vision of the ragged album was overlaid by Luna’s last memory of Orla, crumpled at the base of Gryffindor Tower, nearly unrecognisable from her countless gashes and bruises. Poor, sweet Orla, who was far too young to be there. Underneath the blood and swelling, she had been pale as marble, but has her life had leaked out with her blood through the cursed wounds she had asked Luna for one more story. As she had countless times for young Ravenclaws recovering from detention and Mr Ollivander in the Malfoy’s cellar, Luna had mentally flipped through the album and chosen to tell the story of her mother and father dancing arm in arm through the rain.

There had been so many stories. Every one belonging to a photograph that she had though safe. A photograph now gone.

Luna could still remember the stories, if she thought carefully. Who she had told them to, what hurt had needed soothing, what photograph they described. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one to remember, perhaps those who had heard the stories might remember. Well, those who remained. But it wasn’t the same; it wasn’t enough to trust that the lost were waiting for her. They might be. They might not.

The words would remain either way, but they were flat, colourless shadows without the photographs.